“I never knew before that money would do so much good,” observed the child, referring to the apparent reconciliation of her parents.
Mrs Rainscourt rose from her position, and sat down at the table, leaning her face upon her hands. “I am afraid that it has come too late,” said she, mournfully, as she recalled the years of indifference and hostility which had preceded.
Mrs Rainscourt was correct in her supposition. Respect and esteem had long departed, and without their aid, truant love was not to be reclaimed. The feeling of renewed attachment was as transient as it was sudden.
“I must be off to England immediately,” observed the husband. “I presume that I shall have no difficulty in obtaining money from the bank when I show this letter. Old — will be ready enough to thrust his notes into my hands now.”
“Shall we not go with you, Mr Rainscourt?”
“No; you had better remain here till I have arranged matters a little. I must settle with three cursed money-lenders, and take up the bonds from J—. Little scoundrel! he’ll be civil enough.”
“Well, Mr Rainscourt, it must, I suppose, be as you decide: but neither Emily nor I are very well equipped in our wardrobes and you will not be exactly competent to execute our commissions.”
“And therefore shall execute none.”
“Do you, then, mean to leave us here in rags and beggary, while you are amusing yourself in London?” replied Mrs Rainscourt, with asperity. “With your altered circumstances, you will have no want of society, either male or female,” continued the lady, with an emphasis upon the last word—“and a wife will probably be an encumbrance.”
“Certainly not such a kind and affectionate one as you have proved, my dear,” replied the gentleman, sarcastically; “nevertheless I must decline the pleasure of your company till I have time to look about me a little.”